Half a
dozen chairs had been carelessly pushed back, there were empty
champagne bottles upon the sideboard, the air was faintly odorous
of tobacco smoke - blue wreaths were still curling upwards towards
the frescoed ceiling. Yet the gathering had not been altogether a
festive one. There were sheets of paper still lying about covered
with figures, a brass-bound ledger lay open at the further end of
the table, In the background a young man, slim, pale, ill-dressed
in sober black, was filling a large tin box with documents and
letters.
It had been a meeting of giants. Men whose names were great in
the world of finance had occupied those elaborately decorated
leather chairs. There had been cynicism, criticism, and finally
enthusiasm. For the man who remained it had been a triumph. He
had appeared to do but little in the way of persuasion. His
manners had been brusque, and his words had been few. Yet he
remained the master of the situation. He had gained a victory not
only financial but moral, over men whose experience and knowledge
were far greater than his. He was no City magnate, nor had he
ever received any training in those arts and practices which go
to the making of one. For his earlier life had been spent in a
wilder country where the gambling was for life and not merely for
gold.
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